The Missing Thimble
by Truthful Blasphemy
Summary: Guinevere follows her dreams as a violinist to a university in London, England. She befriends her handsome but awkward stand partner, Peter Gardner, and his gang of unusual but funny friends. Everything is wonderful...until her mysterious genealogy substitute assigns a project that unlocks a long-hidden family secret. A secret that threatens Gwen and her new-found happiness.
1. Prologue

**Test pilot chapter. Please let me know if you think this should continue...**

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_November 21__st__, 2013_

_**Guinevere Bellamy**_

_**206 2**__**nd**__** Avenue West**_

_**Grand Rapids MI 49534**_

_Dear Guinevere, _

_ It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been chosen to travel abroad to _London, England _with the Musicians of the World programme. You will attend university at _Kingston University_ just outside of _London_, and will receive a two-year International Baccalaureate degree in _Literature, _and _Music Theory. _You will also be a part of the International Student Orchestra as a _Violinist.

_Thank you for your application and interview. Your success is guaranteed so long as you apply yourself, manage your time well, and enjoy the experience. Thank you again, _Guinevere, _and we will see you in _London _in the autumn of 2014!_

_Sincerely,_

_ The Faculty of the International Musicians Programme and Kingston University_

When the letter had first come in the mail, Gwen had let the envelope sit on the kitchen counter still sealed tightly for two days, frightened to open it. Her parents urged her to read the decision, thinking that it would be best to finish it quickly. "Like a band-aid," her little brother had teased. "Read it quick and then cry and then be over it. I mean, Grand Valley already accepted you, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Gwen nodded. She steeled herself for disappointment, ripped open the envelope, and stared down in shock at the words written on the paper she clutched in her hand. _"Chosen" _it said, informing her of her acceptance to a program that would land her over a thousand miles away from her family and friends. She would be completely alone, but it would be worth it.

And now she was sitting in a plane, clutching the letter like some sort of talisman, her family's smiling (but tearful) faces fading already. London was beckoning, and Gwen was going to answer.


	2. Chapter One

**Okay. Here is chapter two! I know I already did a Peter Pan AU but this one is going to be very different plot-wise, I promise. Please let me know what you think. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. **

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Navigating the London airport had been easier than expected, although locating her dorm room was not. At least twelve students had given her incorrect directions, giggling behind their hands at her blatant American-ness. Toting a heavy suitcase and her carry-on backpack, Gwen grew increasingly irritated as she wandered hopelessly around the common area near a cluster of central buildings (people called it 'the green'). "Does anyone on this God-forsaken campus know where I can find Middle Mill!?" she questioned the air angrily.

"Yeah," a feminine voice replied from behind her, "And I'm on my way there now, actually. Want to follow along?"

"Oh thank you, yes," Gwen turned around, giving her rescuer a grateful smile. The stranger returned her gesture, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"You're not from around here, are you?" the girl asked. Guinevere shook her head, taking note of how the girl said 'heah' instead of 'here' and 'ah' instead of 'are. "Well, my name is Britney. Which room are you in?"

"Room 204," Gwen replied, suddenly nervous. She had completely forgotten about having a roommate. _What if they're absolutely dreadful? _She asked herself and then shook it off. _You can handle anything. You are halfway across the world from your hometown; you can handle a strange roommate. _Britney promptly turned and took off across the green, with Gwen hurrying to keep up.

"Where are you from?" Britney asked over her shoulder. Guinevere thought the girl looked a lot like a pixie with her short brown hair, narrow waist and wide hips. _She looks just like a little brunette Tinkerbell. _

"America," Gwen shrugged. Britney laughed, loud and long and clear.

"I knew that much from your accent and clear confusion with the campus geography," Britney chuckled, "I mean, where in America are you from?"

"Michigan," Guinevere replied. "It prepared me well for the weather here."

"Is it cold and rainy there?" Britney asked, slowing her pace so she could walk next to Gwen and converse more easily. Gwen nodded.

"It's cold and rainy, sure, but it also changes weather really fast. It could be sunny one minute and raining in the next five…or snowing in July," she explained, feeling a tug of homesickness in her chest. She frowned and looked over to Britney. "Where are you from?"

"Glasgow," Britney wrinkled her nose. "Glad to get out of that hell-hole. There's a lot of crime in Glasgow, mostly mugging and stabbing."

"Sounds terrifying," Gwen said, mentally shuddering. "Is this a good school?"

"I wouldn't know, it's my first year," Britney said.

"Oh," Guinevere paused. "Mine, too, obviously."

"Welcome to Kingston…uhm…"

"Oh! Guinevere! But you can just call me Gwen," Gwen introduced. "You told me your name right off the bat; I totally forgot to introduce myself."

"It's alright," Britney smiled, climbing the stairs of a brick building Gwen assumed was the dorm. Britney held the door open so Gwen could haul her suitcase through. They started up another set of stairs, this set being carpeted, "Here we are, Middle Mill. Room 204 is on the second floor. I'm just down the hall in 210."

"It's nice knowing someone already," Gwen smiled as they mounted the landing at the top of the stairs. "I thought I'd be sleeping on the green tonight."

"The fairies would get you," Britney winked, pulling a key from her pocket and fitting it into the door of a nearby room. "We wouldn't want that to happen to a student so soon in the year."

"Well, thanks again for rescuing me," Gwen nodded, finding her own key in her jacket pocket and fitting it into the knob. "I hope to see you around."

"Later," Britney acknowledged before ducking into her room and shutting the door behind her with a soft and final _thud_. Guinevere took a deep breath and opened the door to her room, pulling the suitcase in quickly and shutting the door behind her. Someone shifted around from further in the room. Gwen steeled herself for meeting her new roommate.

"You must be Gwen," the uninterested voice stated, "I'm Natalie."

"Uhm…nice to meet you, Natalie," Gwen muttered nervously, tugging her suitcase down the short hall and onto her side of the room. She hefted it onto the bed and unzipped it, looking around to locate her closet.

"Oh, an American." With those words, Natalie took her sketchbook and left the room. Gwen made her bed, put her clothes away, changed into pajamas, and fell gratefully onto the semi-hard mattress. She had a sectional in the morning, and she didn't want to be too jet-lagged.

!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!

"I'm going ta be pairin' ye up," her violin instructor announced. His Scottish accent was heavy and sometimes confusing, but Guinevere got the gist of what he was saying most of the time. "I've already haird your audition tapes, so I've already paired ye up. Any questions?"

A chorus of 'no' was his reply, so he nodded sagely and continued. "First chair is Peter Gardner and his pairtner is Guinevere Bellamy. Next is Rose Carter ("_Cairter") _with Andria Rossi. Following them are…" he trailed off, continuing to list people's names. Guinevere was struck dumb by the fact she was second chair violinist of an international orchestra. She'd have to email her Mother about this later, it was so exciting! "We have an hour left of class, but I dinna want to ruin your first day good mood already. I've given ye your pairtner, so find them and tell them aboot yourself."

Guinevere looked nervously around, searching for someone with Peter Garnder written on his nametag. He was kind enough to save her the awkwardness and find her first. "Hello," a tall, very skinny boy introduced. "I'm your stand partner, Peter."

"Guinevere," she replied shyly, "But you can call me Gwen."

"Hullo Gwen," this time his voice was far less formal. "You're from America, I see."

"Yeah, Michigan," she nervously tucked a piece of brown hair behind her ear and gave him a half-hearted smile. Her accent kept giving her away, "Where are you from?"

"London," he smirked, "This is all familiar territory."

"Ah, the king of the campus," Gwen teased with a mock bow from her sitting position. "How kind of Mr. Painter to pair me with thee, Your Royal Highness."

"Well you must not be so bad yourself to have gotten second chair violin," he remarked. She shrugged. "And you're named after a very legendary English Queen. Lady Guinevere…"

"Hey! Peter! Long time, no see!" a tall boy with dark hair and darker eyes proclaimed, approaching the sitting pair. Peter stood and they gave each other a manly hug with much back patting and enthusiastic joking. The boisterous friend turned to Gwen and looked her over, "You're a lucky lass to be stand partners with this guy."

"I figured he must be very good to get first chair," she mused. "I'm Guinevere, but you can call me Gwen."

"Kevin!" the boy announced. He was slightly taller than Peter and equally as thin, though Gwen could tell now that they both had wiry muscle hidden beneath the baggy t-shirt sleeves. He was very tan in comparison to Peter's almost-white skin. Kevin's hair was straight and deep brown while Peter's was strawberry blond with a slight curl. Kevin's brown eyes were full of light and mischief, a trait shared with Peter's bright blue eyes. Gwen smiled when Kevin began speaking again, full of energy, "My friends call me Slightly."

"Why?" she giggled.

"Because I'm _slightly _crazy," Kevin answered with a wriggle of his eyebrows. Gwen burst out laughing. It was loud, and several students turned and smiled with her. She wasn't going to be alone in London after all. That was probably the greatest relief she'd felt so far, even in comparison to Britney helping her find her dorm the previous evening.

"So, after class today some of us are going to do our homework on the north corner of the green. Care to join us, Lady Guinevere?" Peter inquired. Gwen's eager nod made both Kevin and Peter smirk. "Then you can meet the rest of the gang."

"The rest of the gang?" Gwen asked, already wanting an explanation.

"The other boys, and some of their girlfriends," Kevin articulated. "We all hang out together and usually have meals together. We also all live in Middle Mill."

"I live in Middle Mill! I'm in room 204," Gwen quipped.

"And thus we are all neighbors," Kevin rejoined. "This will be such great fun."

"Class is dismissed," Mr. Painter called from the front of the room. The students filed out, most of them smiling, some of them looking absolutely terrified.

Gwen floated through most of the day in a fog of confusion and worry and semi-embarrassment. Teachers handed out homework like it was finals week and her backpack grew heavier through Intro to Science, Medieval Literature, and Basic Maths. This was going to be a terrible night, she could tell. Her classes finished for the day, Gwen headed for the north end (or what she hoped was the north end) of the green. She was happy to find a rather large group of students clumped together, Peter and Kevin in their midst.

"Hey! Lady Guinevere," Peter called, motioning her over, "This is the gang."

"Hello gang, I am Gwen," Gwen introduced with a nervous and habitual curtsey. The teenagers chuckled/giggled at her introduction. Peter made room for her on his blanket, and she thanked him with a heavily relieved look. He merely smiled in return as she settled at his side.

"Shall we all introduce ourselves?" Peter suggested.

"You already know me," Kevin smirked. Gwen rolled her eyes good naturedly.

"That I do."

"Okay, well, I'll get started. I'm Stephanie but these idiots call me Curly," the brunette girl announced. "It's nice to meet you, Gwen."

"I'm Finn, or Nibs," another brunette boy introduced. "And those two idiots attached at the lips are Colie and Jack. We refer to them as Twins, which is kinda weird considering that they're dating."

"Secretly dating," Girl Twin spoke up (Gwen assumed that was Colie). "Which is why the Twins thing happened."

"Right, whatever," Stephanie (Curly) huffed. "Where is Tootles?"

"Bryce? He has a tutoring session," Peter spoke up. "It's the first day and he's already behind."

"Figures," Kevin laughed. "That's my boy."

"You'll meet Tootles, er, Bryce later," Peter promised. Gwen nodded. Just as Gwen was committing their names to memory, Britney bounded up and flopped onto Finn's lap.

"Britney!" Guinevere exclaimed happily. Britney looked up and returned the excited smile.

"Hey! You found the gang before I could introduce you!" Britney declared. "I see you've already met my boyfriend, Nibs."

"Yeah, he's pretty cool."

"We're way less gross than Twins, I promise," Britney wrinkled her nose in the direction of the other, rather promiscuous couple. Britney ruffled Finn's fluffy brown hair, "Isn't that right love?"

"Of course, dear," Finn smiled indulgently.

"Peter is the leader of the gang," Britney divulged. "He just pretends not to be because Kevin is a year older and Peter doesn't want to hurt his feelings."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Kevin snorted. "Like I don't already know."

"Peter Gardner, first violin," Kevin huffed. "Peter Gardner, ladies man."

At this, the whole group broke up into laughter. Peter blushed brightly and rolled his eyes.

"What's so funny?" Gwen asked. Britney giggled a little more before calming down.

"Peter is the only one here who's never had a girlfriend. He says they're pointless, but we all know he's just too shy to find one," Finn teased.

"Idiots," Peter snorted. "Are we going to do our homework or what?"

"Right! On to academic success!" Kevin declared, hefting a textbook above his head like he was brandishing Excalibur. The rest of the group dissolved into laughter again, pulling books from their bags and setting to work comparing answers and scribbling down essay outlines. Gwen stretched out next to Peter and across from Britney and Finn, with Kevin on her other side. _I'm not going to be alone; _she smiled, taking notes on a ballad. _I have friends._

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**I threw a lot of names at you with alter egos so I'll make a chart here!**

**Peter - Peter **

**Kevin - Slightly**

**Finn - Nibs **

**Stephanie - Curly**

**Jack/Colie - Twins**

**Bryce - Tootles**


	3. Chapter Two

**The plot thickens, but hopefully not too fast. **

**Any opinions on this story would be great! I'm going to slow the pace down for the next chapter. This one just needed to get the ball rolling. Hope you enjoy it and leave me some nice reviews and whatnot. You're all absolute _darlings..._**

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Three weeks into college and Gwen was actually starting to enjoy it. The gang (who referred to themselves as the Losties) was a living map of London, and they exposed her to all the best cultural norms and the worst faux pas. She and Peter spent hour upon hour practicing violin and learning to play off each other and improvise, which impressed Mr. Painter. Gwen and Britney often went out on the town together for girl's night. Lady Guinevere, as she was called by the Losties, had become a true Londoner, and even picked up some of the accent.

In general, life was pretty grand for Guinevere Bellamy.

Until her Genealogy 101 teacher went on maternity leave. The substitute professor was an almost scary man, a professor from Eton who had taken a year-long sabbatical but couldn't help teaching even on his vacation. Professor Roger was an extremely intelligent and witty man. Gwen loved to listen to him teach, even if it got a little intense sometimes (who knew people could be so passionate about family lines?), his lectures were never boring. His bright blue eyes would roam the room, locking on one student or another and almost hypnotizing them like a snake set on prey. Gwen enjoyed Genealogy, even if Professor Roger was slightly odd. The big change came on a Tuesday in early October, when Professor Roger entered the classroom carrying a large cardboard box.

"What I have in this box is very special," he began. "There is one of them for each of you. It is your duty to use them to your advantage as you begin your final project, which is due the week before the end of term. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," the class intoned.

"Good. I want you to make a family tree. Not just any family tree, though. I want you to find artifacts from your ancestors and put them into a display worthy of a museum. This must be beautiful and intricate and entertaining! I want stories, pictures, various items of clothing, old hairbrushes with initials carved into the silver, family instruments! If you can manage to find them, carvings from tree bark that your great-grandfather left before going off to war. Your grandmother's first sampler, your great-grandmother's nightgown! These are the little things that make your history interesting!"

"Wow," Gwen breathed to herself, already picturing what an amazing display she could make. She knew that her great-great-grandfather had been part of the Irish Mob.

"Here in these boxes I have documents gathered by the beautifully helpful History majors, by the way, high five a history major this week and thank them for their effort. Each box belongs to a student and contains the basic documents of their family's history. Names, dates, places, occupations, etcetera," Professor Roger continued. "I'll pass them out by the seating chart, so you just sit tight and wait for me to come around. You may open your box and begin your project as soon as you receive it."

Gwen practically buzzed in her seat two rows back. The closer the Professor got, the more excited she became. He handed her a blue wooden box covered in paintings of clouds and vines (each student's box had been personalized) and winked, his eyes sparkling. "You're a lucky one, Bellamy, you already have an artifact."

"No fair," the boy sitting next to her joked. "You've got a head start."

"Lucky me," Gwen returned with a smile. Professor Roger flicked his black ponytail over his shoulder before continuing down the line of students, handing out boxes. A lucky boy in the front row exclaimed in joy about the fact that his first document was a circus poster for a side-show freak. Nervously, Guinevere lifted the lid of her box and peeked inside. A smaller box sat in one corner, and the rest of the space was stuffed with papers, mostly crisp white copies of older documents.

She reached for the smaller box, opening it gingerly and peeking inside. Sitting against a blue-velvet backdrop was a small silver thimble; a children's thimble. Stamped into the silver at the very top were the letters W.D. surrounded by a heart. With suddenly shaky hands, Gwen closed the case and returned it to her box, choosing instead to rifle through the papers. _Why was that so shocking? It's just a thimble. I shouldn't feel any sense of foreboding over a child's thimble. _But that was exactly what she felt: dread and foreboding. The second she'd set eyes on it, her heart had sped up and something had nagged at the corner of her mind. "Keep looking," a voice said, "Keep looking and you might find more than you were looking for."

Gwen ignored it, brushing the feeling up to nerves about this being the final and her constant need to be creative with such projects (which usually led to stress). She turned to the first document, which was her grandfather's marriage certificate to one Jane Calahan in the year 1958 in a nondescript church somewhere in the northern part of London, England. Grandfather and Grandmother O'Rourke had died when Gwen was quite young, but she'd heard that they were eccentric and kind people with vivid imaginations. Her grandfather had been involved in the Irish Mob, according to the paper clipping hidden behind the marriage certificate, and had fled Ireland to the United States with his bride in the 70's.

She read through a real estate advertisement for the Darling Family Estate, which had been heavily vandalized by a group of street urchins. Pictures of the interior were littered with odd symbols and scary looking warnings such as _The Fairies Die Here _and one which had dried dripping and looked more terrifying than any of the others and read: _Neverland is waiting. _

_These kids needed serious mental help_, she decided, reading other reports of family businesses and her great-uncles various careers. Great-Uncle Michael had become a train engineer, and Great-Uncle John had married, become a banker like his father, and had three children. Two of them died in the Second World War, but the daughter grew up to be an actress.

Guinevere was so absorbed in her note-taking and reading that Professor Roger sitting on her desk and tapping her on the top of the head was what it took for her to realize that the classroom was totally empty. "Didn't you hear them leaving?" he chuckled, watching her flush an embarrassed pink.

"No, not really," she stuttered, tossing her papers back into the box and shoving her notebook back into her bag.

"Want me to write you a Professor's pass to your next class?" the teacher asked, tightening his ponytail and cocking his head to the side. Guinevere observed him as she packed up. He wore a navy blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and khakis, the shirt showing more than enough evidence that he was muscular and fit. His hair was curly, ebony black, and always tied into a ponytail. Gwen wondered how such a young man already had a teaching position at Eton; he couldn't be more than thirty years old.

"No, thank you. I don't have a class next period," Guinevere inwardly sighed with relief, pulling herself from her thoughts. She was embarrassed enough for one day, being late to class wouldn't help improve it much.

"Lucky you, eh?" Professor Roger joked, standing and meandering down to his desk. "I'm excited to see your project, Bellamy. You have an intriguing English family history. I would suggest taking a historic tour of Kensington Gardens. Ask the Gardner boy along, he knows the area pretty well from what I hear."

"Thanks," Gwen said, uncertain. "I'll ask him."

"Good day, Miss Guinevere."

"Good day, Professor," Gwen replied, dashing out the door and into the empty hallway. _How long had she been reading? _She headed for the green, tugging her jacket closer around her to fight the initial autumn chill. Only Bryce and Kevin could be found in the usual spot, stretched out on blankets with heavy textbooks, Kevin's titled _The World of Birds _and Bryce's _European History – The Renaissance. _

"Hey! What's up Lady Guinevere?" Bryce asked, having picked up Peter's nickname for her. Gwen shook her head and smiled at her friend.

"I'm alright. I ended up reading through the end of class. By the time I looked up, everyone in my class was gone and the hallways were empty," she said. Bryce and Kevin snorted simultaneously, adding to Peter's theory that they were somehow brothers.

"It's been at least fifteen minutes since class ended," Kevin chuckled, "You must _really _like to read."

"I find my family history fascinating," Gwen admitted. She held out the box, "I mean, check it out. This is some cool stuff."

"Hey! We made those!" Kevin exclaimed, reaching for the box. He took it gingerly and opened the lid, digging through the contents and occasionally reading one. He handed a paper to Bryce, who scanned it with wide eyes.

"Dude, no way! You have some cool grandparents and great-grandparents," Bryce decided. "The Darlings are pretty famous."

"Yeah…I didn't even know we were related. My grandparents died just after I was born and my great-grandparents aren't a popular topic of conversation at my house. I guess great-grandfather's involvement in the Irish Mob had something to do with that," Gwen surmised. "Whatever the reason, I didn't even know their names until today."

"Well you're a bona fide Londoner, now," Kevin remarked. "Your history proves it."

"Well, I'm going to continue my notes," Gwen asserted. "And you guys should probably get back to your reading, yeah?"

"Yup," they said in unison.

The three of them spent the free period doing various assignments, comparing notes, and Kevin and Bryce practiced their percussion parts for the big orchestra concert (Kevin, Bryce, and Stephanie were percussionists for the orchestra) by slapping each other upside the head to the beat of the music. Gwen got a text message from her next period professor, apologizing for the late notice but due to a burst pipe in her classroom, class was canceled for the day and read chapter fifteen of her textbook for tomorrow.

"Sweet, I'm free for the rest of the day," Gwen declared. Kevin and Bryce shot her jealous looks.

"Well, I'd best be off to Medieval Literature," Kevin sighed, gathering his books and notes into his bag and shouldering it. "Where are you headed, Bryce?"

"Biology," he grimaced.

"Freshmen," Kevin laughed to himself, giving the two of them a pitying look.

"Sophomores," Gwen chuckled, rolling her eyes at Kevin. "They think they're so hot."

"I know who _you _think is hot," Kevin intoned, watching Guinevere trip over a tree root.

"What? Who?" Bryce turned, his big blue eyes full of excitement. "Who does Lady Guinevere like?"

"He's the closest to King Arthur our group will ever find," Kevin winked. Bryce's wide smile grew a little (if possible) and he gave Gwen an understanding nod.

"Peter is pretty attractive. Plus you get to spend all that extra time with him, practicing beautiful music together and being really close," Bryce mused, "'If music be the food of love, play on.' Shakespeare was right!"

"He's cute, okay?" Gwen huffed. "There's nothing wrong with thinking someone is cute."

"You should go on a date," Kevin suggested.

"Tell him that!" Guinevere said, not even bothering to argue that a date with Peter Gardner would be absolutely lovely. "Though I'm not sure I want to ruin our friendship. We get along really well."

"Oh don't give me any of that absolute bollocks," Kevin snapped. "It'll happen, just give it time."

"Whatever you say," Gwen conceded. "Well, I'm going to hit the library. See you boys after class!"

"Yeah," Kevin waved. Bryce and Kevin headed off, and Gwen went for the library. It was a vast room full of books, a few computer stations, and other students, all poring over various texts (some looking hopelessly lost and sad and confused). Gwen spotted a familiar tuft of brown hair, and plopped down in the seat across from her best friend.

"Hey lovely," Gwen whispered. "Whatcha reading?"

"Romeo and Juliet," Britney replied. "I have to finish it for class tomorrow. We're doing a unit on sex jokes in Shakespeare."

"Coolest unit ever," Gwen smiled.

"Yeah, it could be worse," Britney smirked, looking up from her book.

"Want to see something cool?" Gwen asked, reaching for her blue box of family treasures.

"Yeah!"

"Check this out," Guinevere held the box open, reaching for the thimble box. She felt dread flood her stomach as soon as she touched it, but she pushed the feeling aside again. Maybe she needed more sleep or something. "It belonged to my great-grandmother, Wendy Darling."

"You're a Darling?" Britney asked, eyes wide and disbelieving. "They have an old family curse, you know."

"No, I don't," Gwen stated. Britney's eyes began scanning the library.

"Come with me, I'll show you," she demanded. Gwen stood, following Britney to a section marked _Historical Newspapers. _"Your family has the worst luck…"


	4. Chapter Three

**The plot thickens. **

**I hope everyone is liking this! Please leave me reviews. Also I'm going to need a character pretty soon, so if you're interested in being in my story PM me! **

**Peter Pan is technically in the United States public database, so I don't even need a disclaimer anymore!**

**Song for this particular chapter: Lior - Daniel**

* * *

Britney searched through the archives, clearly on a mission and blatantly ignoring the angry look from the beady-eyed librarian. "Ah! Here it is!" Britney pulled out laminated paper and held it triumphantly in front of Gwen. "Here is your family legacy in print."

"What is it?"

"Sad, that's what it is," Britney frowned. "And just so you know, I only know about this because I went through a weird phase in secondary school and did some research about this particular case."

"Case? Phase? What are you talking about?" Guinevere asked, worried and confused. The feeling of dread was returning and her stomach began to flutter with nerves (_which was unfounded, of course_).

"I was a little morbid in 11th year and I researched a lot of unfinished police cases and this one happened to come up. Just read it," Britney thrust the paper into Gwen's hand. Gwen scanned the newspaper, which was dated _October 17__th__ 1942_.

"World War II news?" Gwen asked, the tank on the front page greeting her with a seemingly obvious answer.

"No, look at the back of the third page; I know the stories were a little wonky at the time because of the war, but it's just weird to me…they never actually solved her case, you know. No one figured out what happened," Britney rambled. She wasn't making any sense to Guinevere, so she scanned the back of the third page as instructed.

Gwen found what her friend had been talking about, her eyes growing wider and more horrified as she read.

_ Wendy Calahan, age 43, was found on the morning of Saturday, October 17__th__ 1942. Her body was found just inside Kensington Gardens. The gates were closed and locked the night before, with no reports of entrances or exits made by anyone (according to the guards and 24 hour watch). According to the autopsy, her spine and neck were broken in three different places, common results of a deadly fall, though the body was not found near any walls or buildings tall enough to cause such damage. Police are speculating, and Scotland Yard has launched a full investigation under the risk that it may be murder. Wendy is survived by husband, Edward Calahan, age 45 and daughter, Jane Calahan, age 17. _

Gwen returned the paper to the shelf with a shaky hand, her eyes misting over. "No wonder my Mom never talked about her grandmother," Gwen muttered, "She never even knew her."

"They never found the supposed killer," Britney shrugged. "Scotland Yard just kind of…stopped. Reports of the investigation stop in mid-December of the same year, not even two full months after it happened."

"Thanks for the info, Britney," Guinevere shook off the upsetting feeling and smiled. "This is great for my project! With something like this, I could totally get an A. Maybe I can even find some of the original case files and use those, too."

"No problem and bloody brilliant idea," Britney smiled. She looked down at her sparkly blue watch and back up at Gwen, "Everyone should be meeting outside right about now, ready to get out of this joint?"

"Yeah," Gwen nodded. They gathered their stuff and hurried from the library out onto the green, immediately locating their friends. Gwen took her usual seat between Peter and Kevin, while Britney went straight for Finn's lap.

"Hey gorgeous," Finn beamed, kissing Britney on the nose. Britney winked at Gwen before kissing Finn on the forehead in return.

"Handsome," she returned. They kissed for several seconds and the group sat in silence, waiting for the ritual greeting to end.

"Well that was disgusting," Kevin declared, clapping his hands together when they pulled apart for air. "Shall we proceed to the homework?"

"Gwen and I were working in the library and we found something freaky about her family," Britney declared, her voice low and mysterious for dramatic effect. Several heads perked up to listen.

"What did you find out?" Peter asked, looking up from his archaeology textbook.

"My great-grandmother was possibly murdered and they never found the killer," Gwen said with a noncommittal shrug, hoping to drop the matter and think about something else. It was the beginning of the weekend, and the morbid topic on a Friday night was not her ideal conversation.

"Oh, no big deal then," Kevin sarcastically remarked, rolling his eyes for emphasis. "That's so cool!"

"Yeah, murder in the family is always a really nice sentiment," Guinevere snapped. She pulled her notes from her bag and started to organize them, the beginning of what she knew would be a horrible headache coming on. A little less than half an hour later, she lethargically shoved all her stuff into her messenger bag and looked over her group of friends. "I think I'm getting sick, I'm going to head back to my room."

"I'll make sure you make it there alright," Peter offered, cramming his books into his over-stuffed red backpack. Kevin caught Gwen's eye and winked at her. Gwen returned it with dopey slowness and much effort.

"Don't get distracted or wander into any dark corners," Bryce teased. Peter turned a violent shade of fuchsia and Gwen giggled as much as her pounding migraine would allow. Tonight would not be a night for doing homework. She was going to shower and hit the hay. Maybe she was just short on sleep, though a tugging at the corner of her mind made her suspicious of a yet undetected cause.

Peter heaved his bookbag over his shoulder and started off with Gwen at his side. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked, trying not to groan from the intense pain. "You okay?" Peter asked.

"No, it feels like tiny dwarves are mining jewels out of the inner walls of my skull," Guinevere replied.

"That doesn't sound like fun," Peter muttered, quietly slipping his arm around Gwen's shoulders to support her as she staggered almost drunkenly at his side. He was going to get so much hell about this from the guys later, but it was totally worth it. Anything to win him some serious points from Gwen, who was practically stumbling by the time they made it up the stairs and to her dorm room door. She pulled the key from her bag and tried to fit it into the lock, but whimpered when the key slipped from her clumsy fingers and hit the floor. It hurt too much to focus. Peter stooped and grabbed it, quickly unlocking the door and guiding her inside.

"Sit," she whispered, her tone demanding. She pointed to the bed he assumed was hers and he sat on the edge, watching her. She grabbed her pajamas from a cupboard and slumped into the bathroom. Her head peeked out of the door again a moment later, her eyes barely able to focus. "Be right back, okay? Don't leave."

"Okay," Peter promised. "I won't."

A few moments after she closed the door, he heard the water running. He was going to stay anyway, in case she fell in the shower in her childish state of pain and confusion. Gwen had never been sick before and his best-friend instincts (and maybe a little bit of protectiveness over his crush) to take care of her were kicking in.

He looked around her dorm while he waited for her return, taking in the little details he'd never been privy to before. Her bedding was plain; a purple down comforter over silky purple sheets. At the head of the bed rested two pillows with covers matching her sheets and one different pillow adorned with a hand-embroidered covering that read "_Thou speakest a right, I am that merry wanderer of the night!" – Robin Goodfellow (Puck). _Peter wondered if she'd embroidered it herself. Her desk was cluttered with snippets of newspapers, her textbooks were lined up on the shelf above (in the order of her class schedule, not that he knew it) and several poetry books and _Walden _were sitting at the back corner of the desk, spines facing out for easy perusal. Peter noticed, with some amusement, that a collection of Poe's works was among them.

The shower stopped and some rustling could be heard, followed by a low groan. Guinevere exited moments later, her eyes looking glassy and distracted. She seemed almost surprised when her gaze landed on Peter. "You're still here?"

"You asked me to stay," he shrugged, smiling.

"You stayed."

"I said I would, do you doubt me?" he asked. She fell onto the bed on top of the covers and rolled onto her back, looking up at him.

"Not anymore," the rushed whisper, so full of confidence and pain-diluted happiness made his heart leap. Her eyes fluttered drowsily. "Ughhh."

"Alright, Lady Gwen, let's settle you in," Peter quietly declared. He lifted her up slightly and pulled the covers out from underneath her. "Cor, you're warm."

"Mhm," she mumbled, burying her face in his shoulder as he pushed her legs under the covers. He laid her down and started covering her up when she tugged at his arm. "No. Stay."

"Okay," he sat on the edge of the bed again, confused when she started pouting.

"Lay," she demanded sleepily. She was more like a petulant child than a functioning adult at this point, so he figured he'd amuse her. He lay down beside her, letting her burrow against him. Eventually her breathing slowed and changed and he recognized the pattern of deep healing sleep. He went to stand when her hand clamped down on his upper arm, stopping him as she pulled him close again.

"Alright," he sighed, "Maybe not."

Sooner than later, he fell asleep.

Gwen, in her deep sleep, was dreaming.

_She was running quickly. Wherever she was, it was dark and the air was heavy with fog. "Peter?" she called, feeling lost, upset, confused, sad, and determined all at once, "Peter!?"_

_ It wasn't Peter Gardner she was calling for. No, she wasn't Gwen anymore. She was…she was…the name wouldn't come to her. Neither would his last name. Only, "Peter?" which flew from her lips over and over in an attempt to find him. There were dim lights ahead, seemingly coming up from the ground on little stems. Flowers with lights in them? It didn't make sense, but she kept running anyway, still calling his name. _

_ But the fog…she couldn't see anything in the fog…where was she?_

_ She stopped abruptly, seemingly without reason, before the mystery person whose body she was in looked down. There, at her feet, was the body of a young man. He wasn't much older than sixteen and he looked misshapen. Broken. "Peter!"_

_ And then the ground was gone from beneath her and the lights were so much closer, coming up to meet her…_

"Guinevere!" someone was shaking her. She opened her eyes and saw Peter's worried face looming above. _What is he doing in my dorm?! _She panicked, mortified.

"Peter! Jeez! Sorry! Did I miss class!?" she asked, looking over at her alarm clock. It was nearly two in the morning. Natalee hadn't returned, which wasn't unusual, and she was grateful that her vampiric dorm mate had chosen this night for one of her strange outings.

"No, you had a headache, remember? I walked you back to the dorm and you showered and you asked me to lie next to you so you could fall asleep…then I kind of fell asleep," he explained rather sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"No, I prefer sleeping with someone else near me when I'm sick," she said, quickly and clearly embarrassed about sharing that piece of information. "I'm sorry I did that. At the time I probably didn't even realize what was happening."

"You were pretty whacked out there, Lady Gwen," Peter smiled, "But that doesn't explain why you kept calling for me in your sleep."

"I…what?"

"You kept muttering my name and you looked really upset," Peter explained. "I tried to wake you up a couple of times but it didn't work."

"I don't even remember what I was dreaming about," she lied. "Sorry."

"It's no problem," Peter chuckled. "You're rather cute when you're asleep. You curl up 'round the nearest thing you can grab, like a cat."

"Yeah," she half-laughed, embarrassed, "I guess so. Usually it's a pillow and not my stand partner."

"Speaking of that, uhm, Lady Gwen," Peter began, his voice low and nervous, "You know I fancy you, right?"

"Well only if you understand that I like you, too," Gwen retorted.

"So you wouldn't be absolutely gobsmacked if I asked you on a proper date that doesn't involve violin practice or studying of any kind?" Peter asked. "And that wasn't me asking you on a date, I'll do it more officially when it's not two o'clock in the morning."

"I'd be ecstatic," Gwen winked. Peter kissed her on the cheek.

"You'd best get back to sleep, we have class tomorrow!" Peter announced.

"Peter, love," Gwen teased, "Tomorrow is Saturday. No, we don't."'

"Oh, well then, back to bed with you anyway!" Peter said, heading for the door. "It was lovely getting to chat with you."

"Thanks for taking such good care of me," Guinevere laughed, standing and giving him a playful curtsey.

"My pleasure, dearest Lady Guinevere," he bowed before exiting. Gwen settled back into her sheets, wondering about the strange dream and its potential meanings and why the entire curtsey/bow exchange felt so familiar, as if she and Peter had gone through it before. She laughed at herself. _We've probably done it before and I've forgotten. Worried over the meaning of a dream? Really? It's probably just because I was so sick and I had my great-grandmother's murder on the brain. It's no big deal, go back to sleep. _But in some part of her brain, things were beginning to unlock and come back. Things she'd forgotten. Things from a lifetime ago…

Peter, meanwhile, bumped into Britney in the hallway. "What are you doing out so late?" he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Night walks are my favorite walks," Britney replied, crossing her arms. "It's none of your business anyway, seeing as you were sleeping in my best friend's room."

"Not anymore, as you can see," Peter said, gesturing to himself. "Anyway, how did you know that?"

"She gave me a key and I stopped by to make sure she made it back alright. You two were pretty cozy when I bopped in," Britney shrugged. Her Cheshire Cat smile revealed that she had stayed for several minutes and watched them cuddle.

"We should be getting to bed, anyway," Peter huffed.

"Prolly. G'night," Britney saluted, passing him and wandering down the hall. Peter wondered, as Britney walked away, if her ears had always been that pointy and he'd just never noticed. He shook his head and headed up the flight of stairs, gratefully changing into pajamas and falling into his own bed, a wide smile on his face.


	5. Chapter Four

**Seriously guys? C'mon. I had more reviews for the first two chapters than I did for the last 2 and the first one is just a prologue! I will love you all forever if you leave just a simple one-word review. They really make my day and motivate me to keep writing as fast as I am. **

**I'm going to be busy, but I'll try to update as often as possible in the next month or so! **

* * *

Peter woke up screaming, or at least he thought he should be screaming. The pain in his lower back was intense, spiking and intensifying with every short breath he managed to take. Panting, Peter leaned forward; trying to stretch his spine and fix whatever muscle was seizing and causing this horrible pain. With a final relenting tug, the problem disappeared and he sighed heavily. "Dude, what were you dreaming about?" Bryce asked. Peter looked over to his roommate's bed where Bryce was sitting up and had donned his glasses.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, sitting back against his pillow.

"You kept yelling the name _Wendy_ and then you woke up looking like you were having a seizure or something," Bryce said. Peter shook his head, running a hand through his unruly blond hair. "Dude, you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm going back to sleep," Peter muttered, lying down and rolling over. He listened as Bryce placed his glasses back on his bedside table and tucked himself back in.

Peter tried to ignore the dream, but something was nagging at the corner of his brain. It was similar to the feeling he got when he'd forgotten something extremely important and _knew _he'd forgotten something, but couldn't remember what it was. It bothered him as he fell back into a dreamless sleep and continued to plague him as he walked through the dorm on the way to his favorite coffee shop for breakfast the next morning.

He saw Guinevere approaching from down the second floor landing, but instantly questioned what she was wearing. The floor-length blue dress had a lace collar that covered her neck, a bustle, and a short train. Her hair was pulled up into a bun and her heels thudded against the carpeted floor. He blinked, trying to get a better look at the odd ensemble, but when he looked at her again her outfit had totally changed. Now it was the usual fall-weather jeans and a sweatshirt combo that she loved so much.

Peter hurriedly blamed it on his lack of sleep and smiled at Gwen, offering her his arm wordlessly. She accepted, much to his delight, and they exited the building together, arms awkwardly hooked together. The morning was chilly, and Gwen pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over hands, as was her custom. Peter smiled, thinking it made her look even more adorable than normal (if that was possible). She looked up at him, "Beautiful morning, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied, slipping his arm from hers and putting it around her shoulders. "Almost as beautiful as you."

"Peter," Gwen blushed, playfully punching him on the arm, "People will think we're together."

"Would you mind it that much? People thinking that we're together?" he whispered, putting his mouth close to her ear as if telling her an important secret. Gwen blushed even more furiously when several students noticed and smiled to each other, whispering amongst themselves. Where had this come from? Peter was _never _this outright flirtatious! He was so shy and awkward!

"Uhm…"

"Lady Guinevere," Peter said, pausing their walk so he could turn and look her straight in the eyes. "We have been practically inseparable since day one of class, we hang out together all the time and get along splendidly, we have the same group of friends, and I've been quietly admiring you for over a month. You seem to fancy me, too, which is nice. It brings me to this very important question: would you like to go steady?"

"Sir Peter," Gwen smiled, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, "I would love to go steady with you. Now, are you going to take a girl to breakfast, or stand here in the cold all morning?"

"Of course I'm taking you to breakfast, what kind of charlatan do you take me for?" Peter laughed, pulling her close again and heading off in the direction of the shop, a wide smile gracing his features.

A slim, dark figure watched the scene from above, their classroom window open to the curling breezes of mid-October. "It's happening too soon," they mumbled, leafing through a heavy book. They were careful not to rip the aged yellow pages, their fingers light and steady in their deft movements. "That was a close call, and the way they're getting along so well could prove problematic. I must find a way to do away with this budding relationship before either one of them understands the consequences and finishes the ritual on accident. I must bring this to an end. I must."

In her dorm room, Britney was just waking up. The dull pain in either of her shoulder blades was annoyingly persistent. Standing and shuffling over to her bathroom medicine cabinet, she reached for the first pain killers she could find and downed two of them with a cup of water. She flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling and debating what homework she should do first. She decided, with a heavy heart, that the History 101 notes due Monday would be the best choice, followed by an essay and then lunch with Finn. Nodding in satisfaction with her itinerary, Britney sat down at her desk and proceeded to pore over her History book, taking meticulous notes about the Byzantines and Romans and their various empires.

Guinevere, in a similar note, parted ways with Peter at her dorm after breakfast. "I have a lot of homework to finish today," she sighed, "But we can hang out later, yeah? The whole group could do something."

"That's an excellent idea," he agreed, kissing her on the top of the head. She unlocked her door and slid into her room, leaving the blushing and awkward half of herself outside the door. Now she had to focus. She wondered why the information about her great-grandmother had been left out of the box originally. The War, so big and important, had probably been overwhelming and the tiny piece of information un-findable. Yes, that was the most understandable reason. She hadn't looked at the thimble again, but that was because the little trinket always gave her the creeps when she was near it. The sense of dread and longing and some strange recognition tugged at her and made her uncomfortable in every corner of her mind.

So instead of focusing on the strange Genealogy project, she turned to Biology and English, finishing up all the essays she'd need written for the following week. There was nothing Guinevere loved more than finishing all of her homework on the weekends and not having to work on those projects on top of her regular class assignments (mostly reading/notes) given out almost daily by almost every professor during the week. She spent seven hours busily working away at the papers on her desk, completely absorbed by the work and even forgetting to eat lunch.

Peter knocking on the door at six o'clock that evening made her jump roughly a foot in the air as she called, "Coming!"

She tugged the door open and peeked out, embarrassed that she'd never changed out of her pajamas. "Hello? Oh, hey Peter! Come on in."

"Thanks," he followed into her dorm, shutting the door behind him. "Jeez, did you ever leave?"

"Nope," she laughed sheepishly. "I've been working steadily ever since you dropped me off. I'm just on the last page of my History notes, actually."

"Did you eat lunch?" he asked, looking around and finding no trace of leftover food anywhere in the vicinity. Not even a granola wrapper in the trash can next to Gwen's desk.

"I don't think so, no," she replied. The well-timed rumble from the vicinity of her abdomen made her blush a little. Peter chuckled.

"Alright, that's it. I'm stealing you away from your little learning hovel and taking you out with us. Let's go, Lady Guinevere," Peter ordered.

"Where are we going?" Gwen asked, following Peter out into the hallway and grabbing his hand in hers. They both tried to ignore the creeping feeling of familiarity at the gesture. _We've never held hands before, _Peter thought, _so why does it feel like this is something we do all the time? _

In Gwen's mind, the image of a young boy running ahead of her, his hand grasping hers for dear life and racing through the trees, appeared and disappeared like a childhood memory. She shook her head and smiled at him, burying the image and feeling of homesickness it brought with it to the deepest recesses of her mind. "Well?"

"A pub on the edge of London," Peter said, "We're taking the Underground."

"We?" she asked, raising an eyebrow for added effect.

"You, me, Kevin, Bryce, Stephanie, Jack, Colie, Finn, Britney, and Erika," Peter listed.

"Erika?"

"A friend of Bryce's," Peter shrugged. "He invited her along and I guess she's pretty nice."

"Well that's good. I don't know why darling Bryce would be hanging out with people who weren't nice," Gwen rolled her eyes.

Gwen and Peter exited the building and located their friends, who had been waiting for them at the near-campus Underground entrance. The group, laughing and talking loudly to one another, began the descent to the train tunnel below. Britney and Gwen exchanged hugs at the top of the stairs and started giggling over some new album coming out from a band they mutually liked as they walked. Peter and Kevin struck up a conversation about a renaissance fair that was coming to a small town nearby, and Stephanie and (who Gwen assumed was) Erika started talking about percussion problems.

"I'm Gwen," Guinevere momentarily interrupted, "It's nice to meet you!"

"It's nice to meet you too," the girl smiled, brown eyes twinkling with a very Bryce-like mischief. Gwen understood how they were such good friends merely by the way she acted around the others in the group. "I'm Erika!"

"Hey, Gwen," Britney huffed, tapping Guinevere's shoulder impatiently, "Do you have any pain medication in your purse?"

"Like Tylenol?" Gwen asked, digging around in the small bag.

"Anything, really," Britney said, rubbing her sore shoulders and rolling her neck to try and get some relief. The soreness had crept back after she'd forgotten to medicate again before leaving. The constant aching seemed to have taken up residence in her very bones and was driving her insane. Gwen handed her two Tylenols, which she swallowed without water.

But twenty minutes later, as they were entering the pub, Britney started feeling lightheaded. Her breathing was off and the world seemed to shift and pitch, rolling like a ship at sea. Gwen put a hand on her friend's shoulder and Finn walked over, looking worried. "Hey, you okay?"

"Babe?" Finn asked when she didn't respond.

"Hey," Britney smiled dopily. Her eyes rolled back and she fell heavily into Finn's waiting arms.

"What the hell is going on?" Gwen asked the empty air. "We're dropping like flies."

"Gwen," Peter said, putting his arm around her, "You, Finn, and I will take Britney to the hospital. Everyone else is going to grab some food and return to the dorm."

"Okay," Gwen nodded, mostly stunned and worried. Britney was the most resilient. When everyone got colds in mid-September, she was the only one who'd made it through without one sniffle. This was strange. Gwen hoped it was in reaction to the medication, which could be fixed easily enough.

They were in the middle of hailing a cab when Britney awoke in Finn's arms. "Hey, what happened to the party?" she pouted.

"You passed out!" Peter exclaimed. Gwen hurried over and put her hand on Britney's forehead, testing her temperature.

"She's perfectly normal," Guinevere stated. "How do you feel?"

"Hungry and rather sleepy," Britney shrugged. "Please put me down."

Once the petite girl was solidly on her feet again, the group looked around. "Back to the pub?" Finn inquired. Peter shrugged and Gwen put her arm around Britney in the chilly night air.

"Well she said she was hungry, didn't she, gents?" Gwen smiled. _Something weird is going on here, I can feel it. I just wish I knew what it was! _She thought.


	6. Chapter Five

**Sorry I'm a day late with this one, guys, but work has been kicking my butt. Tomorrow isn't going to be a good day, either, so reviews would definitely lift my spirits after 8 hours of ABSOLUTE RETAIL NIGHTMARE MISERY. **

**This chapter is dedicated to the real-life Britney and the real-life Bryce! **

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The following Friday night (after yet another hellish week of classes) Guinevere and Britney could be found curled up on Gwen's bed watching Netflix on her laptop. The failed trip to the pub the week previous and all of its excitement had led to the current situation. Britney was still a little nervous to be out and about and preferred to have one night in the dorm watching horror movies and having girl talks. _Insidious _was playing, mostly ignored, while Gwen and Britney chatted. Half an hour before, Natalie had given a loud and melodramatic huff before announcing that she would be spending the next week at her boyfriend's apartment and don't wait up for her, which Gwen didn't plan on doing anyway.

Thus the room was all theirs.

"Did the date go well?" Britney asked, leaning forward eagerly and smiling widely at her friend. She gave a lewd wink. "I want all the dirty little details."

"Dirty little details? He took me out to dinner, we chatted, and he walked me back to my door. We didn't even kiss," Gwen shrugged. "I actually had a brilliant time."

"Brilliant, huh?" Britney snorted. She flopped back against the pillow and flicked her hair out of her green eyes in exasperation. "You didn't even kiss!"

"I don't want to kiss him just yet," Gwen stated. "He is quite attractive, though. Next weekend we're going on a date to Kensington Gardens."

"Oh, lovely" Britney practically squealed. She clapped and sighed. "The gardens are so romantic! They're not really in bloom right now, but it doesn't matter. It's still really cute."

"Maybe we can check out where my great-grandmother died," Gwen beamed. Britney raised a speculative eyebrow.

"Really? Murder, on a date?"

"What's wrong with a little family history while I'm in the area?" Gwen asked. "I'm sure Peter won't care. He's just as interested in my project as I am."

"That's a little weird, honestly," Britney laughed. "Now, how soft is his hair?"

"I'm supposed to notice things like that?" Gwen tittered, rolling her eyes. "It's not like we sat there and petted each other."

"Seriously, though?"

"Very soft," Gwen conceded. Britney snorted and the girls fell into giggles on the bed, the conversation moving to Peter's butt and then drifted to maybe restarting the movie because Britney actually kind of wanted to see this one. So as _Insidious _started again from the beginning, something strange was happening on another part of the campus.

In a darkened classroom, two people were deep in a conversation. "What am I supposed to do?" a high female voice asked, the pitch indicating her frustration and confusion.

"Seduce him!" the deep tenor of the male voice replied. He was anxious and his nerves were frayed, _he didn't have time for silly things such as this. She should have known by now._

"I can't! It's clear that they're already falling for each other," the girl retorted.

"I didn't call you here to have you fail in your mission," the man declared. His voice was low and angry, almost threatening. The girl crossed her arms, daring him to make a move on his emotions.

"I didn't say I was going to fail you," she said, "But it will be very difficult to find a way to meet the ends you've given me, here."

"I don't care about the level of difficulty," he raged. "Just do not fail me! If you do, you will never see your homeland again!"

"I'm not an idiot!" she cried. "But do not threaten me idly, sir, for if I fail, none of us shall ever see our homeland again!"

"Then get out there and do what you're supposed to be doing," the man snarled, gesturing at the door. The girl turned, her hair flicking out behind her as she made a rather dramatic exit. The man leaned back against a desk and sighed heavily, scratching at his right hand absently. This was going to be more difficult than he'd originally thought. The campus was huge, but of _course _they managed to find each other on the first day and get ahead of his plans.

In their dorm, Bryce and Peter were poring over notebooks and working on various essays. "This is so lame," Bryce groaned. "It's a Friday night and we are doing _nothing."_

"The girls demanded a fun ladies' night in," Peter asserted, "There is nothing we can do to change that short of kidnapping them."

"Well maybe I can hang out with Erika or something," Bryce smirked. "She's probably free."

"You're not her only source of entertainment," Peter snorted. Bryce was already dialing his phone. "I'm sure she has other plans for her Friday night than waiting around for you to call her."

"Hey Erika!" Bryce's voice chimed. "Want to hang out? Cool! When? Where? Be there in a minute!"

"No way," Peter groaned, slamming his face into his textbook. "You can't be serious!"

"As serious as the plague, which I am tired of reading about this evening," Bryce winked, throwing his sweatshirt on over his t-shirt and heading for the door. "I will see you eventually."

"Don't catch any sexually communicable diseases," Peter warned. "And don't get drunk."

"I will try to avoid both of those things," Bryce nodded, swiftly shutting the door behind him and leaving Peter alone in the dorm. Peter put his headphones in, surrounded himself with Chopin's _Nocturnes_, and settled down to write four essays. This was going to be a long night.

Bryce meandered across the green, searching for the familiar brunette. He finally spotted her waiting for him by one of the science buildings, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall. She was the picture of calm and collected…and _hot. _Bryce called her name and waved, catching her attention and making her smile widely.

"What's the plan, my man?" she asked, slipping her arm through his when he got close enough.

"I don't know, really. What do you want to do?" Bryce asked.

"Get dinner? Chat?" she suggested.

"Sounds perfect," Bryce winked. Erika giggled and allowed him to lead her off the campus and down the street to a small pub where the Friday night patrons were still mostly young college students. Later in the evening the drinkers would arrive and the partying would begin.

The couple found a table and ordered before they started chatting. "I've only hung out with your little group once," Erika smiled, leaning her chin on her hand, "And it was rather odd. Tell me about your friends, I'm curious."

Bryce took it as a good sign that she was interested in his friend group and started his explanations of everyone in brief. "There's Peter, the leader of the gang. He's really smart but also very shy and awkward…unless he's around Gwen or us, then he's rather loud. Britney is funny and loud and Gwen is the same but she uses bigger words. Stephanie mostly keeps to herself, but she's really smart. Kevin and I are pretty much the same person but he's more into geek culture. Colie and Jack kiss a lot and ignore everyone else when they can. Finn is quiet, clever, and very intelligent. That's the Losties, in summation."

"You have a very diverse group of friends," Erika smiled. The food arrived and their talk turned to Manchester United's football team this year and how good the chips were.

Meanwhile, back in the dorm, Peter had fallen asleepsprawled next to his textbook. His dreams, which began with foggy pictures of the familiar Kensington Gardens, had grown darker and more confusing.

_The wind whipped through his hair, blowing it out of his face. He felt happy, carefree, and safe. The air seemed to lift him, throwing him from one current to another. He was going to see _her. _He flew over rooftops and down alleys before coming to the nursery window, and there she was in all of her splendor, though she seemed different in some way. She was facing away from him and her hair was pulled up. Her dress hugged her differently than it had the last time he'd come to the window, but it was most assuredly her._

Wendy.

_ His_ _Wendy lady, with her stories spun like gold and her sweet, innocent thimbles that were all for him. Peter didn't understand when a man slightly taller than her entered the room and walked to her side. He smiled down at her and kissed her gently on the forehead before saying something that made Wendy laugh. They looked at the nursery beds and Peter noticed, then, that one of them was occupied by a small sleeping figure. _Michael, _he thought. It was just Michael. _

_ But, as he was approaching the window to open it, the most shocking thing happened. The stranger leaned down and Wendy leaned up and she _thimbled _him. Peter faltered in his flight, shocked and confused. _No! Wendy! _He floated away from the window, something hot and angry pricking at the back of his eyes. Something wrenched at his gut, tearing him inside and pulling forth thoughts he had long forgotten since Hook…Hook…_

_ The pirate's words came back to him then, in a flash of iron and crimson satin coattails, _"There is another in your place. He is called **husband**."

_Then he was soaring away, the hot pricking having turned into tears and the angry feeling in his stomach had vocalized itself in sobbing. His flight staggered, his body dropping closer and closer to the ground as his happy thoughts vanished with every thought of _his _Wendy thimbling the strange man. _

_ The _husband. _Peter cried, landing rather ungracefully and unceremoniously in Kensington Gardens, near the front gate. He curled up into a ball, his shoulders wracked with sobbing and his small body compacted as if he could hold the tears and pain inside. But even the boy who never grows up understands when love has been lost, when selfishness and childishness have given way to a real growing-up, having-a-feeling moment. As Peter sat and cried, something strange happened. Something that he had sworn he wouldn't ever do. _

_ When he stood again, untangling his gangly limbs, his leaves only barely fit him. He whistled for Tinkerbell, and she came in a hurry. Something wasn't right about the whistle. Something wasn't right about Peter. _

_ When the fairy at last arrived, she hung in the air. She was shocked. _

Peter squinted, part of Peter Gardner's conscious mind thinking that she was so familiar. She was so close but he couldn't see her face.

_ Wrapped in the dream again, he reached for her, hearing, in her jingling language, _"Peter, no! You've grown up!" _Her wings fluttered and she floated toward the ground, her tiny shoulders slumped. _

Peter Gardner woke up suddenly, feeling very confused. Something familiar dragged across his mind like a hand pulling off his bedcovers, but he couldn't quite tell what it was. He didn't remember his dream, but he knew that whatever it was, it was important somehow. Shaking his head, he laid back down and fell asleep, this time dream-free.

Downstairs and down the hall, Britney suddenly sat up in bed and shrieked. Gwen sat up, wakened by her friend, and rubbed at her eyes to clear them of sleep. Britney was sobbing, her shoulders shaking and her usually smiling face scrunched in pain. "What is it!?" Gwen asked, wrapping an arm around her friend. As soon as Gwen's arm touched Britney's shoulder, though, the smaller girl cried out loudly.

"Stop it! It hurts!" Britney bawled, and Gwen removed her arm as if she'd touched a hot surface. Britney lifted desperate, tear-filled eyes to her friend, "Gwen, make it stop!"

"I can't make it stop if I don't know what it is," Gwen said. She calmly looked Britney in the eyes and asked her again, "What hurts?"

"M-M-My shoulders, Gwen, th-they-they're on fi-f-fire!" Britney was almost beyond speech, her words caught between sobs and chokes and heavy breathing. Guinevere rushed to the bathroom and shook some pills into her hand. She brought Britney a plastic cup of water and made her take the fast-acting painkillers. Then, without another word, Gwen rushed to the communal kitchen area down the dorm hallway and filled two plastic sandwich bags with ice, taking them back to the room and wrapping them in t-shirts.

"Lay down," Gwen ordered. "Face on the pillow, that's it."

Gwen gently placed the ice packs on Britney's shoulders and waited for the girl to calm down enough to speak.

"It h-hurt so b-badly, Gwen," Britney breathed, trying to regain her composure. "It f-felt like m-my shoulder blades were g-going to come through m-my skin."

"It's alright now," Guinevere crooned, running her hand through her friend's hair. "Go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Britney nodded. "Will you sing?"

"Sure," Gwen agreed, understanding that her friend's childish behavior was a mix of pain and the medication setting in and doing its job. Her friend was getting drowsy, so Guinevere rubbed her hand back and forth across Britney's lower back and started to sing, "Oh stop your crying it'll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you, I will be here, don't you cry…"

Gwen didn't even have time to make it to the second verse of the Disney lullaby before Britney was breathing the heavy, peaceful breath of sleep.


	7. Chapter Six

**I bet you thought you knew what was going on, huh? You kinda had the plot figured out. You sorta knew where this was going...NOT ANYMORE! **

**Please leave me a review! I'd love to know what you think. Don't guess at the ending, though. You'll never know what's going to happen.**

**For Bryce and Daniel and Kevin. But mostly Bryce, my dearest friend and most dedicated reader.**

* * *

Guinevere glanced up from her textbook, her eyes scanning the green for what felt like the millionth time, unsure of exactly why she was doing so. When she did it again a few minutes later, she realized what was wrong. "Wait a second, where's Peter?"

"No idea," Bryce shrugged. "I haven't seen Erika around either and she said she'd meet us here today."

"Don't they have Archaeology 101 together?" Kevin asked; his eyes were still glued to his notes about Greek Mythology. He had to memorize the pantheon for his next quiz and he hadn't been adding much to Gwen and Bryce's discussion of medieval literature.

"You're right, they do," Bryce exclaimed. "But whatever, maybe it got out late."

"Bryce, love, classes ended half an hour ago," Kevin stated in his most condescending voice. "They should be here by now."

"I'll go find them," Bryce offered, moving to stand. "I need to stretch my legs anyway."

"Alright, I'll finish these notes," Gwen agreed. "And we can compare them later."

"Sounds good," Bryce said. He stood, stretched, and lumbered off in the direction of the Science building. Kevin looked up at Guinevere and smirked.

"You and Peter are getting along well, huh?"

"Well yes. Our date was really nice last week," Gwen smiled. "I enjoy his company very much."

"Seems like Erika does, too," Kevin mused, "But I'm sure she's no threat to the Lady Guinevere. Peter has big blue eyes only for you. You should see some of the poetry he writes and then hides in the bottom of his bedside table drawer. Bryce has showed me and it's absolutely terrible."

"Oh dear," Gwen blushed, "That sounds…very odd, actually. Peter doesn't seem much like a poetry writer."

"It's horrible, I promise," Kevin winked. He went back to his pantheon and Gwen returned to her notes on how chivalry influenced the structure of medieval courts and how it was connected to modern romance. It hadn't been fifteen minutes before Bryce returned, his head hung low and his walk more lumbering and sad than usual.

"What ails you, lad?" Guinevere asked jokingly, jogging his arm with her elbow when he took his seat next to her.

"Peter and Erika were looking pretty friendly when I found them," Bryce sighed, "I bet she likes him."

"I thought you two went on a rather splendid date the other night," Gwen said.

"We did, but I guess it wasn't as splendid for her as I initially thought," Bryce huffed. "She was practically wrapped around Peter's arm, but she jumped back when she saw me coming. He seemed uncomfortable, though, Gwen, so there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Yeah and he doesn't often fight back, he just looks really agitated when someone or something bothers him," Kevin added. "So there you go."

"Yeah I've noticed that. Is he coming?" Guinevere inquired. Bryce shrugged noncommittally.

"I don't know. He said something but I was too distracted and didn't pay attention to what he was explaining," Bryce admitted.

"Whatever. If he shows, he shows. If he doesn't, he doesn't," Kevin mumbled. His eyes fell back to his notebook and Bryce and Gwen began their discussion of Gwen's notes, with Bryce changing and adding to his own while they talked. Before they knew it, the study period was up and they had orchestra practice before dinner.

The trio walked down the hallway towards the orchestra room, Guinevere in the lead. They passed Erika as they approached, which they found odd since she wasn't studying an instrument, and found Peter already inside tuning his violin. "Did you spend the whole free hour with her?" Kevin asked, raising a curious eyebrow. Kevin gauged Guinevere's reaction when Peter nodded, understanding her look of blatant confusion.

"We accidentally got into a long-winded debate about some French ruins we're studying in Archaeology and we ended up going to the library to find a source to settle it," he chuckled nervously. "Sorry, Gwen."

Kevin was relieved when her confused expression was replaced with a large smile and an understanding eye roll.

"No big deal, it's not like you were making out in the stacks. Or what is it you guys call it? Snogging?" Gwen laughed. "As long as you weren't doing that."

"I most definitely wasn't," Peter smiled. Gwen got her instrument out and took her seat, beginning to tune and practice the short warm-up scales with Peter. Bryce headed for the percussion section with Kevin, looking mightily relieved himself that Erika and Peter had not indeed been snogging in the stacks.

Britney wandered in and took her seat in the viola section, waving and smiling at Gwen on her way. Gwen smiled back, her hands still occupied by the violin. When at last all the students were seated, warmed up, and waiting, the room remained empty. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen, with no sign of Mr. Painter ever arriving. "Someone should call down to the administration building and see if he left a note with the dean," Peter suggested.

"You do it," one of the cellists piped. Peter shrugged.

"Alright."

He crossed the classroom and dialed the number for the dean of the music program, waiting patiently until the secretary picked up. "Hello, yes? This is Peter. Peter Gardern. I'm sorry, but the entire orchestra has showed up for a scheduled rehearsal today and our teacher seems to be missing with no explanation. Did Mr. Painter leave a note or some form of instruction or say that he would be late?" At this point there was a very long pause. Peter nodded before speaking again, "Thank you. Alright. Goodbye."

"Well? What is going on?" the same cellist spoke up. "Where's Mr. Painter?"

"They don't know. We were his only class today and they haven't heard from him. The secretary said the dean instructed her to release us for the afternoon and that rehearsal was canceled," Peter explained. "This sucks."

"Not for me," the cellist said, standing, "I have papers to write."

The room was full of confused and worried murmurs as to the whereabouts of the teacher as the students packed up their instruments and left the music building in a tiny wave. Kevin caught up with Peter and Gwen, while Bryce and Britney and Stephanie headed for the green. "Where are you two lovebirds off to?" Kevin asked.

"We're both concerned and want to try and locate Mr. Painter," Peter explained. Gwen nodded eagerly and tugged at Peter's jacket sleeve.

"Speaking of, I'd like to get a move on," Guinevere stated, eyebrows raised in impatience. Kevin and Peter nodded to each other before taking off in different directions. "His apartment is right on the edge of campus."

"How do you know?" Peter asked.

"Mr. Painter invited me over for tea after rehearsal once," Gwen explained, "He said he wanted to talk about America but we mostly ended up talking about books after he caught me staring at his first-edition copy of _Moby Dick."_

"Ah, that explains it," Peter rolled his eyes, "You literature nerds sure seem to get along well."

"Yeah, literature and music," Gwen smiled. "And you're not that different. You Archaeology majors are all dirt fiends."

"It's not the dirt!" Peter protested, "It's the stuff buried _in _the dirt that we find so absolutely fascinating!"

"Worms, dirt, whatever," Gwen teased. Peter laughed, looking up and around.

"So where is his apartment?"

"It's on the first floor of this building," Guinevere said, approaching a historic brick townhouse. The old house had been converted into several small apartments, each with a theme. Mr. Painter had been delighted to show her around his 'hairt's fairst love, Regency England'. She knocked on the door of the building and waited for the smiling security guard to let her in. She led Peter down the hall to the second room on the right before stopping abruptly and politely tapping on the shining wooden door. No reply.

"He hasn't been in all day," the security lady piped from her chair near the door. "Nobody's seen him coming or going."

"Can I get in? He didn't show up to teach his only class today and we're very worried about him," Gwen begged. "Please?"

"I'm not supposed to let students into teachers' flats, but since that's not like Mr. Painter at all and he is rather old…" the security woman trailed of, pulling a key from her ring and sliding it into the door. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Guinevere thanked her two more times before following Peter into the apartment. She stopped mid-step and looked around, her jaw dropping in horror at what she saw.

The chairs were smashed, their splintered remains strewing the floor by the upended dinner table, which was cracked down the center. The bookcase was on its side with its contents spread across the living room, over and under the ripped floral-patterned rug. The lamp was smashed and the television screen had several holes in it with cracks spider-webbing out. Dishes were smashed and glass covered the tiled kitchen floor. What really got Gwen's attention (for some reason that she couldn't understand) was that every single clock was demolished, the gears covering the rug by the fake fireplace. Even the digital kitchen clocks had holes through them, rendering them useless and illegible."Oh god," Gwen cried, her breath hitching in her throat. "Oh no."

"Get help!" Peter called down the hallway to the woman. She went for her walkie-talkie while Peter and Gwen tiptoed through the wreckage.

"Mr. Painter?" Guinevere called. "Mr. Painter?"

Nothing. The sound Gwen's quiet crying filled the tiny apartment. Peter put a careful arm around Gwen's shaking shoulders, letting her cry into his shoulder. "Maybe he made it out okay."

"But if he didn't?" Gwen sniffed.

"It's going to be okay, Lady Guinevere. Let the police sort it out," Peter offered, escorting her out of the building and back into the light of day. The police arrived moments later, demanding interviews with both of them as well as the security lady, whose name they never learned. When they gave their statements and the police understood that Gwen was terrified and Peter was exhausted, they let the two teens return to the dorm with no further questioning.

"Want me to stay the night?" Peter asked, rubbing Gwen's shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be nice," she nodded. "I appreciate it."

On the green, Erika's phone rang, interrupting her conversation with Bryce. She glanced down at the screen and hurriedly picked it up, "Hello?" she gave Bryce an apologetic look before standing and rushing a safe distance away from the group to a nearby cluster of trees where she wouldn't be heard. "What's wrong?"

_"I've made a horrible mistake," _the low voice replied. _"The original plan is totally ruined. There's someone on this campus that may be a problem."_

"Who?" Erika asked. "I can handle them, sir."

_"You don't understand who you're dealing with. He has nearly as much power as the boy! Causing him grief or threatening him may prove dangerous if not deadly and completely destroy our hopes of returning home with the Artifact. You must beware this man," _the voice instructed. Erika could tell that her companion was frightened, which unnerved her even further because he was one of the bravest men she had ever met.

"I don't even know who this man is," Erika huffed. "How am I supposed to avoid him if I don't know who he is?"

_"He is a very recognizable man, Erika," _the man snarled. _"I knew him well, once. You did too, though you were just a child."_

"Listen, sir, that's all well and good and I know I should avoid whoever this is but who _is_ he?" Erika demanded. "I can't just pull a mysterious face from childhood memories."

_"He is a dark man, my dear. A murderer, a thief, a pirate, and worst of all, one of the smartest and most cunning men I've ever served under. If there was anyone who could ruin our plans," _her friend paused, taking a shuddering breath and exhaling nervously. Why would he be so afraid to state the man's name aloud? Could it be… could it really be? _"It would be Captain James Hook."_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Teehee!**

**For Bryce and Britney and Guest (who hasn't left me a name yet) and Christopher Scott, a Gentleman Thief. Thank you so much for your kind reviews and all of your love! Have fun...and see you next week!**

* * *

After two weeks of solid investigating by Scotland Yard, Mr. Painter failed to turn up. People said they saw a man fitting his description around town, but there were plenty of rotund, white-haired Scottish men in London, a popular vacation spot. It seemed that he had simply vanished. The school hired a new teacher, the students mourned, and things returned to normal. You could only disrupt the flow of life so briefly before it ebbed its way back into tired normality. And this was the normality of midterm season.

The trip to Kensington Gardens was cancelled. Gwen was stressed over her midterm papers and Peter was too busy helping the new orchestra teacher adjust for them to hang out much at all. Their meetings on the green with the Losties and orchestra rehearsals were their only occasional contact, and only happened three or four times a week. Natalee had taken to bringing her gothic boyfriend everywhere with her, including the dorm, so Wendy often had to drown out their loud expressions of physical attraction to each other with music while she studied and wrote. _Didn't Natalee have midterms to study for, too?_ She thought angrily, turning her volume up another notch.

Things got hectic for everybody with midterms approaching, and nobody really noticed Erika becoming more engrained in the group. She stuck close with Bryce, going on several dates with him but never really making anything official, while also spending as much time with Peter as physically possible. She talked with him frequently about the one class they shared, comparing notes and helping write essays together in the library. Kevin and Bryce noticed, with mutual concern, that Peter often spent more time with Erika than he did with his girlfriend. They also noticed her sneaking off of campus at strange hours of the night with a duffel bag.

"Maybe she's a drug dealer," Kevin suggested, "Or a prostitute. She hides her naughty clothes or drugs in the duffel to get them off campus. That's how she pays for her schooling."

"You're an idiot," Bryce replied. "Just leave her alone; what she does is none of our business."

"Either you're blinded by love, or you're ignoring a really obvious fact, Bryce my boy," Kevin frowned. "But our dear Peter and your darling Erika are spending a lot of quality time together as of late."

"I fear for Peter and Gwen's relationship," Bryce sighed. "And my potential one."

"Like you said," Kevin shrugged, his frown persistent, "It's none of our business."

Midterms came and went and the group's anxiety seemed to completely deflate. Gwen and Peter rescheduled their date, and thus found themselves walking through the blustery, cold, mostly-empty Kensington Gardens. Gwen's hands were shoved in her pockets, not so much for warmth but because she was (admittedly) a little upset with Peter for all the time he spent with Erika. "Do you really like me?" she asked, suddenly. They'd been walking in silence for some time, and Peter jumped when she spoke, surprised by the angry sound of her voice.

"Yes, of course!" he exclaimed. "I like you very much!"

"Then why didn't you make an effort to see me when everything got crazy during midterms?" Gwen asked. "I called you a few times to make plans and then gave up; you never answered."

"I'm really sorry," Peter sighed, putting his arm around Gwen's shoulders and pulling her closer. He could smell her lavender shampoo through her knit beanie hat, and he smiled to himself, comforted by it. "I guess…I didn't realize how busy I actually was or wasn't."

"Everything just kind of melted together," Gwen shrugged. "Especially with the issue of Mr. Painter's disappearance. I understand how that could get confusing and plans would be forgotten. Bryce and Kevin tell me you've been spending an awful lot of time with Erika."

"Guinevere, dear Lady Gwen, are you _jealous_?" Peter laughed. "Are you really jealous of _Erika?_"

"So what if I am?" Gwen huffed, "She's been seeing more of my boyfriend than I have for the past three weeks!"

"Darling, I would never be romantically interested in her," Peter scoffed. "You are the loveliest, smartest, kindest girl I have ever met. I wouldn't trade you for Erika's petty, silly architecture-based conversation _ever_."

"How kind," Gwen half-smiled. She nudged him with her elbow, "Goofball."

"Geek." Nudge.

"Nerd." Nudge.

"Bookworm." Nudge.

"Regular worm." Nudge.

"My lady!" Peter cried, clenching a hand into his coat over his heart, "You've wounded me!"

Peter fell to the ground, his gangly limbs sprawling in every direction and his eyes closing in mimicry of sudden death. Guinevere laughed, tossing her head back and really laughing like she hadn't for weeks. Peter always knew how to make Gwen laugh, and these were their growing feelings for each other manifesting in one long, happy sound. Peter opened one eye long enough to catch a glimpse of her laughing figure before feigning death once again and holding back a proud and loving smile.

"Oh good sir," Wendy bent, kissing him on the cheek, "You are far too clever for me."

Then, out of nowhere, a thought hit them both.

_ A young boy dances across a room, watching his shadow follow his movements across the wall and over bookcases and pictures. He turns, placing his hands on his hips as he crows. He turns, looking at a little girl no more than thirteen years old who is sitting at the foot of a bed, her nightgown gathered around her like a lady's dress, his eyes are wide and sparkling as he declares, "Oh the cleverness of me!" _

Gwen shook her head, her hat almost coming off. Peter sat up, his eyes wide. "What the hell?" Gwen asked. "Sorry. I've been having these strange dreams lately. I guess I had a waking one just then."

"Me, too," Peter nodded. They looked at each other, eyes nearly-focused and brains hazy. They worked through the thick fog of returning thought and wondered, for a millisecond, if they'd had the same strange vision. Peter shooed the idea from his mind, but Gwen clung to it.

"Peter, what did you see?"

Something in Peter's brain went on the defensive. "Just a boat on the Kensington pond," he shrugged. "Nothing too exciting."

"Oh," Gwen said, hanging her head. For a second she had felt an odd and years-long connection with the boy in front of her, as if she'd found someone very dear to her who had been lost at sea for quite some time. It disappeared in a heartbeat as Peter announced the content of his thoughts. Peter stood up, brushing dust and dead leaves off his black coat and placing his arm back around Gwen's shoulders. Gwen suddenly looked very excited and pointed, "Look! The Peter Pan statue!"

"Ah, yes. The most famous statue in the entire garden," Peter smirked, "And my namesake, I believe."

"How lovely!" Gwen smiled. "I've seen pictures of this statue my whole life. It was my screensaver in high school, even. Now I'm seeing it in real life. This feels like magic!"

"Gwen," Peter paused, turning to face her and letting his arm drop back to his side, "I'm really glad we've gotten to know each other so well."

"Me, too," Gwen said. Her face reddened slightly. She blamed the cold, Peter smiled triumphantly to himself.

"I think…" he trailed off, opting instead to lean forward. Gwen stood on tiptoe, reaching for him in return. The air sparked with anticipation, the magic of Kensington Gardens gathering and focusing on the couple. Kensington Gardens had been witness to the end, now they could finally encourage the new beginning. Peter and Guinevere were maybe an inch away from finally kissing when a voice was hurled at them from the nearby vicinity.

"Gwen! Peter!" it was Erika. Kensington Gardens' magic dissolved into thin air, angry and upset at the intruder.

"Oh," Gwen said, her eyes opening and her face turning even redder in embarrassment. She took a small step away from Peter. "Hello, Erika."

"Hey, guys! I came here to do an analysis of the statue for class and found you two, how funny!" she giggled. Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed for Gwen's hand, which had receded back into her coat pocket. He tugged it out and wrapped his fingers protectively around hers. Gwen smiled and Erika's stance became noticeably more defensive.

"Yes, how funny," Peter scowled. Gwen tried not to crack a smile at his obvious anger towards the silly girl who had ruined their near-first-kiss. They decided to end the Gardens portion date, exiting the park rather quickly and leaving Erika behind.

Erika pulled out her phone as soon as they were out of earshot, dialing the familiar number. "Sir," she said, as soon as it stopped ringing, "I managed to stop them this time, but I can't hold it off for much longer. Pretty soon, our little lovebirds are going to kiss."

"_You haven't managed to secure him?" _the man replied, his voice low and angry.

"He isn't interested!" Erika nearly shouted, "I've tried and tried in every way possible and he just doesn't like me. I can't _force _him to like me. I don't have magic powers."

"_You have failed. This mission is pointless. Is Hook aware of your or my identity?"_ the man asked.

"No. Even Scotland Yard and the school body itself are unaware of your identity," Erika laughed. "Who would ever think the mastermind could be you?"

_"You'd be surprised," _he replied smoothly. The _click _indicated the man's ending of the conversation. Erika sighed, putting the phone in her pocket and walking briskly towards the exit gate of the park. He was going to find a way to end this once more, as he had done for two generations. He wasn't going to let His plan fail again. This wasn't going to be good.

In a comfortable apartment just off campus, Mr. Rogers was sitting in front of a blazing fire, trying to enjoy a book. His right wrist burned, no matter what newfangled medication he took for it. The pain was constant, nagging, a reminder of his true form. It had only returned the week previous and he knew that it was a good sign, a sign that the magic was returning, but he hated it. He tossed the book aside with a growl and stood, pacing back and forth.

"I've gotten them together," he said through gritted teeth. He ranted to himself as he paced, glaring into the fire with his bright blue eyes. "They should have kissed by now. How hard is it for two hormonally unstable teenage children to _just kiss? _Kissing is not a difficult act, children. Put your mouths together. Not that hard. Though he is a rather thick boy, it might take him awhile to get it, and of course she's waiting for him to make the first move. That stupid girl always had the best manners a sheepdog could afford to teach."

It dawned on him, suddenly. Like a piece of paper catching fire, it flamed bright and obvious in his mind. _It had to be Him. There was no one else so desperate to stay the way things were, so desperate to keep in this boring mortal world but Him. _Mr. Rogers, or rather James Hook, pulled on his red winter coat (how appropriate) and exited the apartment, heading for another building just downtown.

Yes, of course, there it was. He flew up the steps, into the building, up another flight of steps, and stood before it. Room Two, the number read, the number large and brassy against the mahogany of the expensive door. Hook knocked twice, smartly, and waited for the answer. Yes, of course, as the door creaked open. It was Him indeed. Hook's lip curled into a domineering sneer as he stared at the slightly shorter man. "Mr. Painter, you're alive and well, I see."

"Y-yes," the man choked the word out. _I'm ruined. _He thought, knowing that the grand charade was up. A hundred years had gone to waste as he tried and tried to keep the prophesy from manifesting. And here was his greatest adversary and greatest friend, come to stop him and return them home. "As are you, Mr. Roger."

"Enough with the pretenses," Hook snapped, stepping past his bo'sun and into the apartment. "And explain to me, Mr. Smee, exactly why you thought I'd let this go any further."


	9. Chapter Eight

**So between work and film festival and some homework, I've been absolutely swamped. I'm sorry that this chapter is 1,000 words shorter than usual, I suck. But please leave reviews. I will not be updating again until next Thursday or Friday and if I can't get any reviews, I will definitely not be motivated. Come on, guys, really?**

**Anyway, here you go.**

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Hook leaned into the overstuffed high-backed armchair and looked as his ex-comrade, who was fidgeting in his own seat, his cup of tea sloshing out into the saucer as he adjusted and readjusted his position. "Calm yourself, Smee. I know you're angry. Let the anger out; explain to me just how your convoluted plan was supposed to work."

Smee set the cup and saucer down on the side table before standing and turning to face his Captain, his face a livid red and his voice shaking with years of pent up anger. "I gave you _Eton. _I gave you the very things you wanted most in your life, honor and recognition and all of your good form meaning something to the world. I gave you a new, working hand to replace the memories that the infernal boy had inflicted on you. I took away the hook that gave you your nickname and ruined you as a scholar, determining your path as a buccaneer and unlawful seafaring robber. I gave you everything you'd ever wanted, Captain, why did you seek me out? Why do you wish to return to Neverland?!"

"Because this time, this place…I do not belong." Hook looked steadily at the quaking, stout man before him, whose eyes were full of subdued, confused rage. "You do not belong. Peter and Wendy's incarnations? They do not belong. The Lost Boys definitely do not belong on a college campus, either. As soon as I remembered exactly what you had done, I started searching for you in every place I thought possible. I did not expect to find Mr. Painter, the Scotsman music teacher, as your alter ego. I came so that we may return home, Smee."

"But why would _you _of all people wish to return to that god-forsaken island?" Smee asked, sitting down again, his anger transforming to honest curiosity. "I thought you hated it there."

"I did, at first," Hook mused, "But I realized that if I came back to the Mainland, nothing would be the same. The era of my pillaging pirate ways was far over. Times have changed, Smee, and we belong where time never matters, where we can still be the villainous pirates history wrote us out as. Here, on the Mainland, we are but a fairy story recorded by a strange little man and published as fiction. Fiction, Smee! We have no meaning here. But home? We rule the entirety of the Neverlandean Ocean."

"Why would you side with Peter Pan?" Smee inquired, taking a small sip of his tea. His anger faded as his Captain regained the smooth control he'd always had. Smee, for all his silly ways, always admired Hook's grace and elegance and intelligence. He allowed himself to fall under the know-all, understand-all demeanor of Captain James Hook once again.

"Because in order for us to have enough magic to return to Neverland, Pan must figure out what happened to him," Hook shrugged. "He must remember who he is and what his birthright is as Prince of Neverland. He must kiss the girl. It is as prophesy stated when you bargained with the fairies, wiped our memories, and closed Neverland to us all."

"I didn't mean for either of them to die," Smee muttered. His head hung in shame and his white hair looked even thinner than Hook remembered it last. These years on the Mainland were affecting his cohort more than originally thought. "We don't age, James. You and I and the Lost Boys haven't aged for decades. We live in a loop, always waiting for the next Wendy and Peter to come around. Maybe, sometimes, we remember who we are early. Just as they are about to meet for the first time, we get an inkling of our true identities. But every time they die, we return to blank slates. We live on, unaware. Their deaths were accidents, every incarnation was an accident."

"Speaking of Peter, you didn't bring him with you when you made the deal. What happened to him?" Hook asked.

"He came looking for Wendy," Smee explained. "She was already married when he returned to look for her, and he saw her at her window with her husband and her new daughter lying in bed. He was so heartbroken that he lost his happy thoughts, every single one of them, in midair. He plummeted to his death. Wendy followed shortly after, falling from a building under circumstances I still don't truly understand."

"And their incarnations since? None of them have managed to fulfill the prophesy," Hook glowered.

"Accidental deaths, all of them," Smee shrugged. "This is the first successful relationship between a Peter and a Wendy since the original pair."

"And we must protect them," Hook decided. "We must complete the prophesy before it is too late and Neverland completely shuts down. Think of how much damage his death has done! Every time!"

"I was actually trying _not _to think about those things," Smee grumbled. Thunder suddenly shook the building, and both men jumped from their seats, staring out the window. Clouds were gathering over the campus, Hook could feel the electricity in the air gathering almost painfully. His wrist throbbed, and he was sure that Britney's shoulders were burning (having long since known her identity).

"We need to go," Hook declared.

Smee grabbed his jacket and struggled to both pull it on and follow Hook out of the apartment building. The two men hurried down the streets, pushing against the wind of the gathering storm.

Across the campus in the Middle Mill building, Peter and Guinevere were curled up in Peter and Bryce's dorm watching a movie on her laptop. They were enjoying the film, completely absorbed in the plot, but very close and very ignorant of the violent weather gathering outside. Their closeness was generating power.

Nature was picking up its cues from the fairies: something was coming. Something big.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Okay, here we go. This time I actually sat myself down and wrote. And it's only an hour away from being late! HA!**

**Alright, this story is at a point where I can either end it or keep it going for awhile. It's up to you guys. Let me know via reviews/PMs.**

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Hook and Smee fought their way across campus against the wind and blustering rain. Hook could taste the metallic edge hanging in the air, the magic shifting with every move the two teenagers were making in the tiny dorm room above. The pirates were just entering Middle Mill when a loud shriek rang out from upstairs and lightning flashed outside. They exchanged a look before Smee shook his head, "It's too late. It has already come to pass."

Hook dashed up the stairs, Smee following closely behind, determined to ensure the safety of the Keys to Neverland and all their friends. "Smee," Hook ordered, resuming his Captain's ways, "Gather up the Lost Boys and make sure that their memories are restored properly. I'm going to make sure Pan and the Darling girl are well protected. They've had more than one life to live through."

Upstairs, the magic had located its beginning: The Kiss. Their lips had only touched for a brief moment after Gwen had suddenly grown aware of and scared of the storm. She had turned to Peter for comfort and he had immediately decided it was now or never, kissing her gently on the mouth. It was then that the pain slammed into them both from the inside, much like being hit by a freight train. Guinevere screamed.

_"Peter!" _Gwen cried, her mind expanding with the energy of a dying star as the memories of her past lives came flooding back. "Peter Pan, where are you?"

_Neverland. The Lost Boys. Hook. Smee. John. Michael. Flying from the nursery. The adventures. Being captured. Leaving the island. Growing up. Her marriage. Her daughter, Jane. Seeing Peter's broken body on the pavement. The crushing grief. The strange dreams. Falling from the roof. The fairies trying to move her body. The fairies growing tired. Her body left in a strange position, far from where it had fallen. The police never understanding that it was all an accident. Watching her husband and daughter mourn. Blackness._

_ Feeling a tug. _

_ Seeing a light. _

_ Another life, this one more fleeting than the last. _

_ Then another._

_ Now Guinevere, here on campus, the strange attraction to Peter. Mr. Painter seeming oddly familiar. Mr. Rogers looking even more so. The odd feeling whenever she was near the thimble. The dread she felt when she worked on her genealogy project. The dreams. The instant friendship with Britney. The familiarity of the Losties and their nicknames._

"I am Wendy Darling!" she cried, her eyes glowing white with the force of the knowledge and the magic it entailed. Over a hundred years of waiting, and they had finally found their way back to each other as fate had intended, as Smee had changed. Gwen, flinging her head back, was accepting the memories that had lain dormant in her mind for a century. She allowed her shattered, swirling mind to organize itself as she fell backwards into the comforting arms of unconsciousness.

The same occurred to Peter. _Listening to the stories. Meeting Wendy. The flight to Neverland. The adventures. Defeating Hook. Spring cleaning after spring cleaning with Wendy. The little house in the trees. Having grown-up feelings. Wendy and the husband. Jane. Jane's spring cleaning. Peter growing up. Peter trying to fly again. Peter getting farther off the ground than usual. Losing his happy thought._

_ Darkness._

_ Nothing for a long time…and then Guinevere. His lady Guinevere. His attraction to her. His friendship with Britney. The easy leadership a freshman took over the Losties. _

He, too, fell into the momentary blackness of empty space, allowing himself to reawaken with the knowledge of his identity fully intact. All Peter really needed to do was blink. His mind was firm in the knowledge of being the _wonderful boy _already. He didn't need to recuperate as Wendy/Gwen did. He was completely understanding and aware of his true form: Peter Pan, rightful King of Neverland. As he smiled and let out a gleeful crow, proud and sure of himself once again, Peter paused.

Something was wrong.

Things weren't happening the way they were supposed to, and someone very dear to him was in immense pain. He could feel it reaching to him from downstairs. The magic called to him like a parent with a child and guided his every reaction, making sure that no one would be left behind. Peter, knowing that the fairies always had a purpose, followed the magic's urging. After carefully tucking the motionless Guinevere into bed and making sure she'd be okay, he darted down the stairs two-at-a-time to reach Britney's dorm. He could hear her crying from outside the door and knocked, as Peter usually did with his closest friend.

His only reply was a quiet cry for help, which spurred him immediately into action. He kicked the door in, dashing into the room and to his friend's bedside. When his eyes adjusted to the dim of her room, they widened in surprised. He knew that she would have changed; he knew that her true form would show somehow, but he wasn't expecting it to be this obvious. Britney lay curled on her side, two large wings sprouting from either of her shoulder blades. They were filmy and fragile and looked like thin blue tissue paper.

"Tink?" he asked, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on her arm, "Are you alright?"

"They hurt, Peter, when they came out. It still hurts," Britney sobbed, turning to cling to him. The wings followed her and Peter was surprised as to why he expected them to fall back onto the bed like children's costume pieces. These were real wings. Britney…Tinkerbell…was a real fairy, after all. Peter cradled the small girl against his chest, letting her cry into his shirt as she chanted, "It hurts. It hurts."

"It's alright, I'm here now," Peter said, rocking her gently. "That's what best friends are for."

"Peter, Peter, I remember everything. I remember it all and it hurts," she said. He observed, as he held her and let her cry, that her ears had gone totally pointy, no longer subtly changed. Her wings had burst through her shirt, which was probably causing some of the pain, and her whole figure seemed more slender, as if she had been built for flight all along. She was curvy, as usual, but something more internal had changed to make her _fae. _

Peter gingerly set her on the bed and went on the hunt for scissors. "Britney," he said, calming her down, "I think it hurts because your shirt is pinching your wings. I'm going to cut it off, okay? Cover up with the sheet."

Britney scooted to the edge of the bed and held the blanket across her chest, her sobs quieted to soft sniffles and the occasional hiccup. She let Peter take care of her, cutting away the shredded fabric and freeing her delicate new appendages. She sighed, greatly relieved when the last of the clothing was off. Peter cut up another t-shirt and tied it around her middle, below her wings, to cover everything without injuring her any further. "Peter, you're the best!" she smiled, rising several feet off the floor in excitement. Her wings fluttered, sending a spray of silvery powder everywhere.

"Pixie dust!" Peter exclaimed, gathering a small pile from the bed where Britney had been laying. He rubbed it up and down his arms and sprinkled it over his hair, feeling the magic coursing through him with every additional pinch that made contact with his skin. "Britney, it's working!"

"Of course it is, silly," Britney huffed, no longer crying, "That's what it's supposed to do."

"It's been so long," Peter rose from the floor and circled lazily in the air, "But it still feels the same."

Britney paused, looking around, "Where's Gwen?"

"Gwen!" Peter darted out the door and back up the staircase, this time his feet clear of the floor completely. "Gwen?"

He entered their dorm, and Gwen was just as he had left her. He sensed a new presence and glanced around the room before his bright blue eyes landed on his sworn enemy: Captain James Hook.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, hovering near Guinevere to keep her safe from his mortal foe.

"I came to congratulate you on the rediscovery of your memories, now if you'd stop panicking, I'm here to help. It wasn't me who banished you to this realm, but my idiot bos'un, Smee," Hook calmly explained. Peter touched down, firmly planting his feet in a defensive position (just in case).

"Smee did this?"

"He and some of the darker forces of Neverland banded together. He erased our memories, replaced what we had lost, and pushed us into the bright new world we had seemingly lost forever," Hook said. "We do not belong here, Pan. This is not our place, our time, or our home. I never thought I'd be saying this, but I wish to return to the island."

"You, the infamous Captain Hook, wants to leave the mortal world he craved so badly and return to the Neverland?" Peter was incredulous.

"Yes. I had a purpose there," Hook stated. "I had purpose, a crew, a mission, enemies, and always enough time to truly live. Here I have nothing but an eternity of not really knowing who I am and a strange feeling as if something important is missing."

"What can I do about it?" Peter asked, putting his hands on his hips. Hook smirked at the telltale pose.

"Wish, Pan. That is what you do, you wish."

"I simply wish us back home?"

"All of us," Hook nodded. "Me, Tink, Wendy here, the Lost Boys, all of us."

"If I do this, Hook," Peter narrowed his eyes and glanced at the sleeping Guinevere, "We have a weeklong truce. Until everyone is familiar with the territory again, until I know we'll all be safe, we are truced."

"Then, I assume, the game will resume itself as it always has," Hook mused.

"Of course," Peter agreed.

"Then wish away, your truce will be honored, I promise."

"Alright," Peter nodded, running a hand through his blond hair. Trusting the villainous Captain went against every one of his initial instincts, but Captain Hook was a man of his word (as he had proven many times before) and so he cleared his mind of such thoughts. Peter closed his eyes, clearly focused, and said the words with as much strength as he could muster. Pan could feel the magic racing through his veins and gathering behind his closed eyelids, intensifying with each moment. Every happy thought ever had by every child surrounded him in a cloud of hope and magic and faith. "I wish we were in Neverland."

And then the world dropped out from beneath his feet.

When Peter opened his eyes again, he was lying alone on a long stretch of familiar beach.


	11. Ending

**Sorry, guys. No sequel for this story. I'm way too busy. The most I'll be able to publish this year are probably oneshots. Maybe I'll start another chapter story, but it's not looking very likely as of now. Work and school are going to kill me.**

**I love you all! Thank you to Bryce, Britney, Daniel, and the rest of my close friends for keeping this story alive.**

**Much love, Truthful Blasphemy.**

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Peter rose from the ground, looking around him. He knew this land by heart, backwards, eyes closed, in his sleep. He floated into the air, the island laid out before him in brilliant greens and golds and blues. Colors the normal mortal eye wouldn't dare to conceive but that dreams had brightened. Neverland.

He placed his hands on his hips and posed in midair, giving the loudest and longest crow of his entire life.

First he would find Gwen, then he would find the Lost Boys, and then, of course, the adventure would continue. As it always had, as it always would. Only now he had the love of his life by his side as he always should have.


End file.
